


an evening with hearts content

by jekisawrites



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add characters as they come, Kinda, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, also clarke is an idiot but we love her, they just want to live that simple southern life and tend to their garden and bees okay?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jekisawrites/pseuds/jekisawrites
Summary: After the news, her holiday at Mamaw’s is a blur. Bellamy walks her home as the sun begins to dip away. Wells greets her with a hug, and as she walks inside the house, Bellamy Blake watches from the gravel driveway.Thelonias Jaha picks her and Wells up two days later. “Your mom couldn’t come, Clarke. I hope you understand.”She doesn’t, but she nods anyway.“Can we wait just a bit? We were supposed to say bye to Bellamy and Octavia.”Theolonias shakes his head, “Sorry, Clarke. Your mom asked me to come here and back. No dillydallying.”Wells gives her an apologetic look and loads their bags in the car. As they drive down the one way road, Clarke sees a red four-wheeler with a familiar head of dark curly hair. She presses her hand against the warm window and whispers a see you soon.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bellofthetolppl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellofthetolppl/gifts).



> Title from Song of the Bees by Hannah Flagg Gould. 
> 
> This originally stemmed from a tumblr prompt from [Iva](https://jasperjoordan.tumblr.com/)  
> "Hey! I love your writing and hurt/comfort is my favorite trope so maybe “This is going to hurt.” + “Please stay with me.” if that works for you? Have a great day!" 
> 
> It was supposed to be a one shot but has spiraled.  
> I told myself I wasn't going to post this until i finished part 2, but here we are.  
> That being said, I have no idea when part 2 will be posted. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The first time Clarke meets Bellamy, she’s at her grandmother’s house that sits at the end of an old country road surrounded by ponds, creeks, fields, and more trees than she ever knew existed. Two days after she met Bellamy, her father died. 

That week is split in two in her memories. The first few days were those that belonged to the summer. The humidity cascaded around them, causing Clarke to sweat and feel trapped by the heat, but it was a sensation she was used to since she lived in New Orleans. The days were long, and she spent them running through her grandmother’s fields with Wells. On the second day they found a creek, and followed it to the pond near the woods. On the third day, they met a cottonmouth that chased them a half a mile, before a boy on a red four-wheeler came speeding their way. He spotted the snake on the gravel path, and pulled up beside Clarke and Wells. 

“Get on, they’ll chase you for miles,” It sounded like he knew this from experience. 

Clarke didn’t wait for Wells to agree, she seldom did, and hopped on behind the boy. Wells didn’t take long to get on behind her. The boy was taller than Wells, but thinner. Clarke could feel his ribs through his thin cotton t-shirt as she held on as he sped towards her grandmother’s house. 

Clarke leans around him and shouts over the roar of the four-wheeler, “How do you know where my grandmother lives?” 

The boy smiles, “I know her. She told me you guys were coming. I live behind her house.” 

He speeds up as they near a hill, and he whoops and hollers as they go flying over. Wells tightens his hold on Clarke, while she smiles into the wind and lifts her hands above her head. 

As the house approaches, she finds herself not wanting the ride to end. 

She slides off anyway. 

Wells is next to her in a second, but her focus is on the boy still atop the rumbling four-wheeler. His smile is something curious and mysterious, smug and open. 

Wells speaks up, “I’m Wells, and this is Clarke.” 

Clarke thinks she sees a laugh hidden in his dimples when he says, “I’m Bellamy.” 

The name clicks in her mind, and her smile grows triumphant, “Your family is renting the old farmhouse! Mamaw told me about you guys. Moved in last summer, right?” 

Bellamy nods, “Yeah, that’s us.” 

The old farmhouse is where Clarke’s dad spent most of his early childhood. It was when he was about her age that his parents started building the house they live in now. For the most part, the old farmhouse spent the next years unbothered and mostly forgotten. Her dad has told her one or two stories about how him and his friends got into trouble throwing a few parties in it, but other than the mischievous kids, no one visited it. 

That is until someone at Mamaw’s church approached her. They had a niece who needed a place to live. She had two kids, and was in between jobs. Mamaw was kind enough to let the family stay in the old farmhouse if they were willing to clean it up. According to her, they were more than willing and made the forgotten house a home again. 

Bellamy, the oldest of the two kids, helps Mamaw out with her garden. Clarke has heard his name over the phone on more than one occasion. 

Mamaw walks across the deck that’s attached to the back porch. She has an apron on with patches of flour covering it and paint on her cheek. 

She waves at Bellamy, “I see you kids have met. Where’s Octavia?” 

Bellamy waves back, “She’s at tutoring. I had to save these two from the cotton mouth by the fishing pond.” 

Mamaw scoffs, “That thing is going to give me a heart attack one of these days.” She points to a basket then, “There’s still some carrots out in the garden. Do you guys feel up to getting them for me?” 

All three of them nod, and then they’re all back on the four-wheeler with the basket and Wells sharing the back. Bellamy doesn’t go as fast with Mamaw watching them. 

That’s how their friendship starts – dirty knees and fingers, windblown hair and sun dried lips, laughter that floats away with the water in the creek, and friendship as easy as slipping on mud. 

Mamaw cooks them all fried chicken, beer battered fries, and a heap of vegetables so colorful and delicious they had to be homegrown. Octavia, Bellamy’s younger sister, shows up as the sun starts to dip down and as they’re setting the picnic table out back. Bellamy helps Mamaw make lemonade, and Clarke doesn’t think she’s ever tasted something so good. 

The two siblings stay after the sun has disappeared and help Wells and Clarke start a bonfire. Mamaw comes out only to bring them marshmallows, chocolates, and graham crackers. They don’t head home until the fire is nothing but embers and Mamaw calls from the porch telling them it’s time for bed. 

The next day, the four of them spend all day together. They all squeeze onto the four-wheeler together, Octavia driving after Bellamy relented to her begging, Wells in the middle, and Bellamy and Clarke sitting on the back side by side holding on for dear life. Octavia seems to love speed more than her brother. 

They explore the acres and acres of land that surround Mamaw’s house. The Blakes show them their favorite spot in the woods – a giant hill with a drop off on the other side. 

“A plane crashed here years and years and years ago,” An excited Octavia tells them. “If you dig a little, you can still find pieces of metal. Bell has a whole jar full!” 

Later, Bellamy and Octavia show them the best place to find arrowheads and the old fallen oak tree they climb to get to another even older tree that still stands proud. 

They eat sandwiches and pickles for lunch, downing every drip of Bellamy’s lemonade. Mamaw makes them dinner again, and they all sit around the table with sun kissed skin and summer memories blooming in their chests. 

That night, they run to the trampoline and jump until their legs give out. They collapse on it, legs and arms spread out, and smiles a mile wide. They lay there watching the stars, talking about their dreams, and making plans for tomorrow. Even when the mosquitos come to torment them, they stay. 

“The mosquitos don’t like my blood,” Bellamy brags. 

Wells laughs, Clarke sticks her tongue out, and Octavia throws a twig at him. 

The next day, Clarke’s world comes crumbling down. 

The kids had all woken up early, Bellamy wanting to show them something deep in the woods. It’s late in the afternoon when they all come back with growling stomachs and dirt stained cheeks. Wells is driving this time, and when he sees Mamaw on the porch he slows to a stop. None of them realize she’s crying until they get closer, and then the tear stains and redness are impossible to miss. 

The others stay back as Clarke runs to her, “Mamaw, what’s wrong?” 

When Mamaw tells her in a broken whisper, Clarke can’t breathe. Rocks fill her lungs, and her stomach feels like it’s made of acid. She takes off running, her shoes flying off behind her, and with no destination in mind. 

She finds herself on the edge of Mamaw’s property, something she only knows because her father told her that the river marked the end. At the thought of her father, she falls to her knees and breaks. 

She stays like that, knees bent and head bowed, until her legs begin to ache. Then she sits, spreading them out, and wishing the world would swallow her up. 

The world doesn’t swallow her, but it does bring her Bellamy. 

When he plops down beside her, she doesn’t know how he found her, but she’s thankful for it. 

“Figured you’d need to eat, even if you’re not hungry.” He mumbles after a beat and hands her a chicken sandwich. 

He’s right, and she takes a sloppy bite out of it. There’s silence for a while, and Clarke welcomes it. But when Bellamy starts to speak, she also welcomes his voice. 

“My dad died, too. I was four, so…” He shrugs, but the meaning is still there. He doesn’t remember the pain that Clarke is going through right now. “I still miss him, though. I don’t think I’ll ever stop.” 

Clarke nods, too numb to say anything else. 

“I’ll be around… if you need me.” He goes to stand up, but Clarke reaches out and takes his hand. 

After a moment, she whispers, “Please stay with me.” 

Bellamy nods, and stays by her side until she’s ready to face the world again.

After the news, her holiday at Mamaw’s is a blur. Bellamy walks her home as the sun begins to dip away. Wells greets her with a hug, and as she walks inside the house, Bellamy Blake watches from the gravel driveway. Neither of them realize that’s the last time they’ll see each other for fifteen years. 

Thelonias Jaha picks them up two days later. “Your mom couldn’t come, Clarke. I hope you understand.” 

She doesn’t, but she nods anyway. 

“Can we wait just a bit? We were supposed to say bye to Bellamy and Octavia but–” 

Theolonias shakes his head, “Sorry, Clarke. Your mom asked me to come there and back. No dillydallying.” 

Wells gives her an apologetic look and loads their bags in the car. As they drive down the one way road, Clarke sees a red four-wheeler with a familiar head of dark curly hair. She presses her hand against the warm window and whispers a see you soon, but her gut tells her she’s lying. 

Clarke is twenty-six when Mamaw dies.

Mamaw’s funeral is in Mississippi, of course, and Clarke is more than willing to go and make arrangements. Her mother, on the other hand, is not. She doesn’t even make time to make an appearance at the funeral. Clarke is thankful that Wells came with her. 

“Of course I came, Clarke. I loved her, too.” 

She gives him a sad smile, and continues on. Towards the end, she thinks she spots a familiar man standing in the back. His dark curly hair tugs at a memory in her gut, but she can never make it close enough to see his face. 

Her mind whispers,  _ Bellamy.  _

But by the time she remembers, by the time she makes it to where he was standing, he’s gone. 

She rushes to Wells, “Remember Bellamy and Octavia?” 

He smiles at the memory, “Yeah, are they here?” 

She deflates, “I thought so, but I couldn’t get a good look at him. I was hoping you’d seen him.” 

“Sorry, Clarke. I haven’t.” 

Once the funeral and grave-side service is finished, Wells drives Clarke back to New Orleans. Another year passes before she finds out Mamaw left the house to her. 

Every morning, Clarke goes for a jog. Wells says it's more of a fast paced walk, but Wells' opinion doesn’t matter here. Moving across state lines doesn’t stop her from her morning runs, and for the month she’s been here, she’s been running almost every morning. She’s gotten to know a lot of her neighbors that way, and her favorite one is Mr. Miller. 

He lives three houses down with more animals than Clarke can care to count. The only animal of his that she cares about is Mayberry the pig. 

As she passes Mr. Miller’s as she heads back home, he walks on the porch and waves. 

“Miss Mayberry is pregnant!” He shouts, and Clarke has no choice but to pause her jog and go talk to him. 

“Oh? When is she due?” 

Mr. Miller smiles like a proud father, “In August, probably. Want to go see her? She’s missed you the past few days.” 

Clarke smiles at that, “Yeah, I’ve missed her, too. Been busy with work, but I gotta get home. I promise to come visit Mayberry tomorrow!” 

“I’m going to hold your deer sausage hostage otherwise!” 

Clarke laughs as she turns to jog back home. 

There’s a picture on Mamaw’s old mantle of Clarke, Wells, and the Blake siblings from their brief summer together. That night, she sits on the couch and stares at the photo. She wonders what Bellamy is doing now, where he lives, and if he ever stopped missing his dad. She definitely didn’t stop missing hers. She wonders if Octavia is still just as loud and fearless as she was when she was ten. She hopes so. 

She picks up her phone and facetimes Wells. He answers almost immediately, “That was quick. Were you just sitting by your phone waiting for me to call?” 

He flips her off and smiles when he says, “Shut up or I’ll hang up on you.” 

She’s tempted to keep teasing him, but she knows from experience that he will end their call. It’s happened many times before. 

They talk for a while, then Wells sets his phone down on the couch and let’s Clarke talk to his cat. Sir Mittens was very unimpressed by the entire exchange. When he comes back for his phone, he has a slice of pizza in his hand, and Clarke’s stomach growls. 

“What are you eating for dinner?” Wells asks around a mouth full of pineapple pizza. 

“Nothing as gross as you’re eating.” She sighs and plops down on the couch, “I’ll probably go out and grab something. I’m thinking sushi.” 

“Gross.” He makes a face, but then perks up, “Oh, hey. I meant to ask. Have you seen Bellamy and Octavia?” 

Clarke shakes her head, “No. I’m not sure where they’re living. I know Mamaw sold a piece of her land and the house, but I’m not sure to who or what happened to the Blakes afterwards.” 

Wells hums, “That’s a shame. I’d feel better about you living out there by yourself if you had a friend. Maybe you can look him up on Facebook?” 

Clarke blushes, which Wells almost immediately notices, “You’ve already done that haven’t you?” 

“Yeah, and apparently neither of the Blake siblings believe in social media, which is lame by the way.” 

“Well, maybe you’ll see one of them around town.” 

“Only if they still live here.” 

“Have a little hope, Clarke.” 

Clarke does end up going to pick up sushi for dinner, and on the way out she spots an old red four-wheeler parked in the trees lining the old one way road. Memories of that summer with Wells and the Blakes come flooding back, even more so than when she first moved her. She briefly wonders if it could be the same one, if it could be Bellamy or Octavia, but she shuts the thought down. She blasts her music to keep from dwelling on it while she gets her dinner. 

One month turns to two, and soon it’s the end of May. Clarke is sitting on the deck that definitely needs some touch ups when an unfamiliar truck comes down the gravel driveway. She’s been attempting to enjoy the warmer weather before it gets unbearably hot, but as she feels sweat dripping down her spine, she thinks she might’ve missed the mark. 

She watches as the car comes all the way down the drive and parks behind hers. She stands up then, pulling her hair up and twisting so it stays up. She’s halfway down the deck steps when the person in the car finally steps out. 

She sees a head of unruly black hair first. It takes a moment for her to see the rest of him. Freckled skin kissed by the sun, uncertain eyes flickering over her, and a mischievous smile that hasn’t aged a day. 

“Bellamy?” 

He shuts his car door and takes a step towards. He’s hesitant, and something about that causes Clarke to smile. 

“Hi, Clarke.” He rubs the back of his neck and leans forward on the balls of his feet, “I, uh, wasn’t sure you’d be here.” 

She tilts her head, “How’d you know?” 

“Helen told me she gave the house and land to you in her will a few years ago.” He shrugs, “I always wondered what you’d do with it.” 

She spreads her arms wide showing off all the places that need to be repaired, “Apparently not much.” 

“I brought you a, uh, housewarming gift I guess.” He goes back to his car and takes out a giant mason jar. 

She gasps when she sees what’s in it, “Your lemonade! I swear I’ve dreamed about it regularly.” 

He laughs at that and hands it to her, “Happy to make your dreams come true then.” 

She places it on top of her car. Then she looks at him, tries to find the traces of the boy she knew only for a handle of moments. He’s taller now, and not nearly as lanky as he was that summer all those years ago. She can’t help but notice how much he’s filled out and grown into himself. His hair and smile are the same, though. Somehow, that’s reassuring to her. 

“Where are you and Octavia living now?” 

His smile widens at the mention of his sister, “Octavia is in New Zealand working for a travel magazine. She’s their photographer. I, um, I’m still living at the old farmhouse. I bought it from your Mamaw a few years after my mom passed.” 

Her smile melts away, “ _ Oh, _ Bellamy.” Her heart stutters, “I know this doesn’t help, but I really am sorry to hear that.” 

He gives her a half smile, “I know, Clarke.” 

She doesn’t want to dwell on that, the sadness between the two of them could drown them both. “So, if you still live at the old farmhouse, how are you just now visiting me?” 

A surprised laugh escapes before he can stop it, “I’m a teacher at one of the schools. You arrived just in time for state testing and finals. I didn’t have much time to think about a girl I only knew for a week out of my entire life.” 

“But now you do.” 

His smile is brilliant, “Yeah, now I do.” 

**_Clarke_ **

_ 12:03 A.M.  _

_ Found Bellamy. Actually, he found me.  _

**_Wells_ **

_ 12:05 A.M.  _

_????? details and explanation please  _

**_Clarke_ ** **_  
_ ** _ 12:12 A.M.  _

_ He came over and brought me a jar of his lemonade.  _

**_Wells_ **

_ 12:12 A.M. _

_ If that was supposed to clear things up, it did no such thing  _

**_Clarke_ **

_ 12:13 A.M.  _

_ You remember that lemonade he made when we were here? _

_ You gotta. It was delicious. I had dreams about it.  _

**_Wells_ **

_ 12:15 A.M.  _

_ You had dreams about his lemonade.  _

**_Clarke_ **

_ 12:18 A.M.  _

_ Ye stop being weird.  _

_ Anyway he brought it over.  _

_ We talked.  _

_ We have tentative plans to hang out again  _

**_Wells_ **

_ 12:19 A.M.  _

_ Ok but how did he know you were at Mamaw’s  _

**_Clarke_ **

_ 12:19 A.M.  _

_ He still lives at the farmhouse  _

_ Hes the guy that bought it from her  _

_ She told him she was giving me the house in her will  _

_ He just kinda hoped i was here when he came by _

_ Said he wouldve been here sooner but work had been busy  _

_ Octavia is in NZ apparently. Working for a magazine? _

**_Wells_ **

_ 12:19 A.M.  _

_ Why are you asking that? Shouldnt you know? _

_ I definitely dont. I wasnt there.  _

**_Clarke_ **

_ 12:20 A.M.  _

_ Idk leave me alone i hate u  _

**_Wells_ **

_ 12:20 A.M.  _

_ Love u, too.  _

**_Clarke_ **

_ 12:22 A.M.  _

_ I miss you, Wells.  _

**_Wells_ **

_ 12:22 A.M.  _

_ I miss you more.  _

_ Go to bed, Clarke. We’ll facetime tomorrow.  _

  
  
  


Clarke isn’t entirely sure how she managed to get herself in this mess. One moment she was taking a walk around the property, relearning her grandmother’s land – her land – and the next, she was rolling down a hill. There was a piercing pain in her leg that brought tears to her eyes, and when she tried to stand up, the pain shot through her body so intensely that she fell again.

Her first instinct was to call someone, but she didn’t have her phone. And, even if she did, she had no one call. Wells was her first choice, and he was well over two hours away. 

She’s tempted to give up, accept her fate, and stay there until some unfortunate soul finds her. Luckily for her, her dad didn’t raise a quitter. She tries to stand again, this time clenching through the pain and using a nearby pine tree to lean on. 

Clarke takes a moment to catch her breath, and then chances a glance to her leg. It’s already discoloring, and she has an inkling that if it wasn’t for her running shoes, her foot would be twice the size it is now. 

_ Broken fibula for sure,  _ A voice shockingly similar to her mom’s offers.  _ Probably the tibia, too.  _

She groans in pain, cursing herself for being stupid enough for not bringing her phone and not seeing the hole that sent her flying down the hill. 

There’s no way she can put pressure on her left leg. She looks around for something –  _ anything  _ – to use as a makeshift crutch. She spots a fallen branch a few feet away. 

She sighs, resigned to the pain she’s about to cause herself. She takes one more look around for anything closer, but doesn’t find anything. She steals herself for the pain, takes a deep breath, and takes one wobbly jump towards the fallen branch. She has to bite the side of her cheek to keep from screaming out in pain. 

“One more,” She promises herself once the majority of the pain subsided. 

This time when she jumps, the pain is so much worse she loses her balance. She screams out in pain and barely catches herself against another tree. The force of it causes the bark to scratch the palms of her hands, but that’s the least of her worries. She leans down – and she hates the whimper that comes out of her as she does – and grabs the fallen branch. 

Once she has the branch, she leans her weight against it. Thankfully it isn’t rotten and holds her weight. She looks around, “Well, there’s no way I’m making it back up that hill.” 

She starts making her way around the hill, back towards the way she came. She has to stop every few steps because of the pain. Not for the first time since falling down the hill, she wishes she knew this land better. 

When she reaches a clearing, the sun is high in the sky, but she knows the sweat pouring out of her has little to do with the heat. 

Another sharp pain terrorizes her body, and she squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn’t know how she doesn’t hear him, but when she opens her eyes again she sees a familiar red four-wheeler and one Bellamy Blake riding towards her. 

For a split second, she doesn’t think he sees her. But then he makes a turn and heads her way again. She doesn’t dare more – too exhausted and too scared of the pain, so she stands as still as a statue as he comes closer. 

“Clarke?” He yells over the roaring engine. 

She could cry, but she takes a deep breath instead and blinks back the tears, “Hi, Bellamy. Can you give me a ride back to the house?” 

He swerves to a stop a few feet away from her. He’s staring at her, a little confused. She tries not to worry about how awful she must look right now; that’s the least of her worries. Then his eyes dart to the branch holding her up, and then down to her leg. 

She hears him gasp, and in a flash he’s standing in front of her, his hands reaching for her, but not daring to touch her. 

“Shit, Griffin. What the hell happened?” 

She grimaces, “Stepped in a hole and fell down a hill.” 

His hands are still hovering over her, nearly twitching, “You didn’t think to call me?” 

“I didn’t bring my phone,” she shrugs, which was a bad idea, and collapses into his chest from the pain. He grabs her then, finally, and the branch falls to the ground. 

She grabs his shirt in her fists until the pain subsides again, and then she relaxes as much as she can against me. 

“Okay,” He breathes out, “I’m going to carry you to the four-wheeler, alright?” 

She nods against his shoulder, still leaning against him. Distantly, she knows he’s cradling her head and comfortingly petting her hair. 

He steps away from her, just slightly, “On the count of three, okay?” 

When she nods, his face grows stern. A second later, “One, two…” 

He lifts her up, and she bites down on her lip to keep from crying out. He carries her with ease to the four-wheeler, settling her on the back rack and propping her leg up as gently as possible. 

“This is going to hurt,” He informs her. “This isn’t a smooth ride.” 

She doesn’t care. She’s just glad she doesn’t have to walk anymore, “Just get me home, Bellamy.” 

He nods once, a jerky motion, before jumping on in front of her, “I’ll go slow, and let me know if the pain gets too bad.” 

He wasn’t lying when he said it was going to hurt. Even as slow as he was going, the uneven landscape made it impossible for a smooth ride. She ends up leaning forward and clutching her knee, trying and failing to stop the pain. She doesn’t care about the tears streaming down her cheeks now. 

They finally make it to the house, and Bellamy parks the four-wheeler next to her car. He slings his leg over and hops off, careful not to jostle her, “Where are your wallet and keys?” 

Absently Clarke asks, “Why?” 

“To take you to the hospital, obviously.” 

“I can drive myself.” 

He gives her a flat look, “I’m going to pretend you’re not that stupid. There’s no way you can safely drive all the way there. It’s a good twenty minutes away.” 

She knows he’s right, so she doesn’t fight him on it. “They’re on the table.” 

She watches as he runs inside. She blinks, and then he’s running back out. He unlocks her car and cranks it before coming to her and easing her down. He walks her to the car and opens the door, “I’m going to help you ease into the back seat. I’ll try to keep your leg steady as you scoot back until you're against the other door.” 

She nods, and leans on him for balance as they turn around. It takes longer than she wants, and her leg hurts more than she ever thought possible by the end, but they finally make it. 

They’re halfway down the road when Bellamy twists to face her, “I grabbed your phone, too. Do you want me to call your mom or anyone?” 

“Wells. Call Wells.” 

He nods, finds his number in her phone, and calls. Wells doesn’t answer, but Bellamy leaves a voicemail. 

“Hey, Wells. This is, uh, Bellamy. I’m with Clarke, and we’re headed to the hospital. She hurt her leg, but she’s probably fine. Call Clarke or me when you get a chance.” He leaves his number and then hangs up. 

“Anyone else?”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, “No, that’s it.”

The emergency room isn’t busy when they get there, and they get called back fairly quickly. Bellamy stays with her through it all, even following her to get X-Rays done and helping answer the doctor’s questions when he can. When they admit her to a room, he sits in a nearby chair and does anything he can to help her. 

Once they tell her she has to have surgery and schedule it for the next day, she looks at him, “Go home, Bellamy.” 

He almost looks offended at the command, “No way. I’m not leaving you by yourself.” 

“I have the doctors and nurses. I’m far from being by myself.” 

He gives her a very unimpressed glare, “Clarke, I’m not leaving. Helen would want me to stay with you.” 

At the mention of her Mamaw, her heart stutters. 

“Besides,” He continues, “I promised Wells I’d stay with you until he gets here tonight.” 

She rolls her eyes, “You’re impossible.” 

He flashes her a blinding smile, “I know.” 

Hours later, Wells comes barreling through the door huffing for breath and wild eyes, “Clarke?” 

When he sees her, he rushes to her side and smothers her in a hug. Clarke chuckles, feeling much better after receiving pain medicine, “Wells, I’m fine. You can let go of me.” 

He pulls away, but she knows from the look on his face she’s about to get a lecture, “This is why I told you to make friends. This is why I was so nervous about you moving to a town where you know barely anyone. Do you know how lucky you are that Bellamy found you? It’s a pure miracle! What would you have done if he hadn’t shown up?” 

Clarke closes her eyes and sighs. She keeps them closed as she calmly says, “But Bellamy  _ did  _ find me, so all of that is irrelevant.” 

Wells seems to remember Bellamy then and turns to face him, “Bellamy. Hi. It’s good to see you again, especially since you saved my best friend’s life.” 

Bellamy stands, ducks his head to hide a smile, and rubs the back of his neck, “It was nothing. Just happened to be at the right place at the right time.” 

Wells smiles then, “Just like that cottonmouth, right?” 

Bellamy lets out a surprised laugh, “Yeah, I had forgotten about that actually.” 

The next time she sees Bellamy, it’s after her surgery, she feels like shit, and she just wants to be home in her own bed. Also, her hair feels like it’s greased to her scalp. 

He walks in with a duffle bag she doesn’t recognize, a promising looking paper bag, and that smug grin that is beginning to make her heart smile. 

It’s probably just because he practically saved her life. Yeah, it was just that. 

“You look like shit.” 

Clarke flips him off, “Exactly what I want to hear.” 

“Knew it.” 

She points to the paper bag, “What’s that.” 

He holds the bag up and shakes it a little, “Cheeseburger from Mac’s. He makes the best burgers that cures everything. Pretty sure it cured my depression at one point. Figured you were tired of hospital food.” 

He laughs when she makes grabby hands at it, “Where’s Wells?” 

“Stepped out to take a call, and probably going to the cafeteria.” 

Bellamy hums in response and sits down in the chair with the mysterious duffle bag in his lap. 

Clarke is too busy shoving her face with what is possibly the best burger she’s ever eaten to ask about it. 

“I brought you some clothes,” Pink travels up his neck as he points to the bag. “I didn’t go through your stuff. Much, anyway. I just grabbed some of the folded clothes that were on the couch.” 

She smiles around the burger, and with a full mouth says, “Thanks, Bell. You didn’t have to do that.” 

He doesn’t have a response to that, and the two of them sit in silence while she finishes her food. Surprisingly, she finds herself content in the silence instead of racking her brain for some mundane topic to talk about with him. 

After a moment he speaks up again, “When are you being discharged?” 

“I think they said two days from now if everything goes well. Wells is pissed because he won't be able to stay with me the first night home. He has some big meeting or something. Maybe it was a conference?” She shrugs, giving up trying to remember what he had said. 

Bellamy watches her for a moment and then, “I’ll stay with you.” And almost as an afterthought, “If you want someone to.” 

Clarke is a little shocked at his offer, and it takes her a moment to remember that she needs to swallow what’s in her mouth. 

“No, you don’t have to. You’ve done so much already.” 

“Clarke.” He gives her that flat look again, “I’m a teacher on summer break. My sister is in New Zealand. The most exciting summer plan I have is repairing the fence around the property.” 

“So you’re only offering because you’re bored out of your mind,” She teases. 

He smirks, “Obviously. Why else would I offer?” 

Her returning smile is too soft for her liking, “Beats me.” 

Wells rearranges her pillows for the hundredth time. Clarke doesn’t even think she’s exaggerating. 

“Wells!” She bats him away, “Stop, I’m fine!” 

He gives her a glare, “You are not. Have you seen your leg lately? You had two displaced fractures. You look like a sci-fi experiment right now.” 

Clarke rolls her eyes and swats him away when he starts to mother her again, “Wells. Please.” 

He takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest, almost as if that’s the only way he can refrain from reaching towards her again. “You’re sure you’re okay if I leave?” 

She can hear the nerves in his voice, “Wells, even if I wasn’t, you have to go to work. But yes, I promise. I’ll call you if anything happens, and Bellamy is going to be right here. Right, Bellamy?” 

“Yep!” He yells from the kitchen. 

He showed up with a book and several changes of clothes. But he hasn’t even cracked his book open. He immediately noticed a bulb was out in the kitchen and changed it. Then asked her if she had changed the batteries in the smoke detectors. When Clarke remained silent, he walked around the house, pulling the ladder behind him, and mumbling about fire hazards and being suffocated by smoke. 

Clarke found it more than a little adorable. 

Wells, of course, noticed. “I see you.” 

She gives him a side-eye, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Mhm, sure.” He ruffles her hair and winks, “Don’t break the poor guys’ heart.” 

Days pass in a blur for Clarke – pain medicine making it difficult to stay awake and remember what transpired the precious few moments she was awake. It didn’t take long for her to wean herself off the meds, and soon she was awake more often than not. Which meant she saw a lot more of Bellamy Blake. It seemed he never left her house. 

He was fixing a leak under the sink, and she was propped in the chair by the fireplace so she could see the TV and him. “Have you been home at all since this…” She motioned helplessly to her leg, “travisity?” 

She hears him chuckle, and she thinks he says something but isn’t sure. 

“Bellamy, we’ve been over this. I can’t hear you from all the way over here when you’re under the sink.” 

There’s a beat, and then he’s sliding out and groaning as he stands up, “ _ I said,  _ I usually go home when you nap. Get my mail, check on the bees. The usual.” 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke feels herself smiling at him, “You have bees?” 

Bellamy glances at her, “Please don’t start teasing me like my sister does.” 

“I would never.” 

“Mhm. I’ll bring you honey to keep your mockery at bay.” 

Clarke smiles even wider, “Deal.” 

True to his word, the next time she wakes up from a nap, there is a jar of fresh honey on the counter. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with surprise visits and friends.

The embers of their summer friendship from years past grows while Bellamy all but moves in while her leg is still in a cast. After the first few days, he started going back to his place at night, but he still arrives early enough to cook her breakfast with eggs his hens laid overnight, deer sausage he gets from Mr. Miller, and homemade blackberry jelly he gets from two of his friends, Monty and Harper. He cooks while Clarke is propped up in what is becoming her favorite chair that sits by the fireplace. She got Bellamy to angle it just right so that she could see into the kitchen while also still seeing the television and her overgrown backyard. 

Bellamy brings her coffee just how she likes it, and then goes back to watch over the sizzling breakfast. By the time the coffee is cool enough for her to drink, Bellamy is bringing her a plate full of food. 

Her mouth waters at the food in front of her, “You know, I’m going to be at such a loss when I get this cast off.” 

He reappears with a plate of his own and sits on the couch. He smirks at her comment, but otherwise ignores it. “Have you noticed the back deck is rotting?” 

She nods, “Yeah, I was going to call someone to get an estimate on how much it would cost to get it repaired.” 

Bellamy looks offended, a fork full of runny eggs and sausage mid-air. “Why would you call someone?” 

“Because I can’t do it?” 

He gives her a teasing glare and points his fork at himself, “But I can.” 

She smiles and motions towards the deck, “Then by all means.” 

Bellamy spends the day measuring the deck and scribbling things down in a notebook he keeps in his back pocket. By lunch, his shirt is off and his hair is dripping with sweat. Clarke hobbles around the kitchen making the lemonade exactly how he taught her and making them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. When he comes in, rubbing his damp shirt over his hair, she has their plates ready and a bowl of fruit on the table for them to share. 

“I’m going to have to basically start from scratch. A lot of the support has gone bad.” He pulls on a spare shirt and joins her at the table, “It’ll be a little bit more expensive than I thought. Is that okay?” 

She pops a blueberry in her mouth, “Yeah, it needs to be done.” 

He gulps down his entire glass of lemonade and pours more, “I’ll go get the wood and everything after lunch. Wanna come with me?” 

Clarke has gotten better at using her crutches, and she’s sick of being stuck at home. “Yeah, I’ll tag along.” 

After the outing, Clarke is drained. That evening Bellamy cooks them dinner while she responds to work emails. When it’s all ready they both get settled on the couch and watch a movie. By the time it’s over, Clarke is half asleep and Bellamy doesn’t look any better. 

“Sleep here tonight, Bell. It’s too late for you to walk home.” 

Even though his truck is here from getting wood at the hardware store, she knows he prefers to walk back to his house at night, not wanting to be bothered to take the long way driving. 

He helps her off the couch and hands her the crutches, “You sure?” 

“Yeah,” She nods upstairs where the extra bedrooms are, “You know your way around.” 

His response is soft, matching the night around them, “Thanks, Griffin.” 

Bellamy doesn’t waste any time getting started on the deck the next day. Clarke wakes up to the sound of a saw, and when she makes her way to the kitchen she sees coffee waiting for her with a note. 

_ Coffee is ready, and the food is in the oven.  _

_ Should still be warm when you get up.  _

_ If not… that’s your fault.  _

_ -B.  _

Clarke smiles at the note while she stirs cream and sugar in her coffee. She puts the note on the fridge before hobbling over to the oven to get her breakfast. Her smile only widens when she sees the honey and jelly are already on the table. She takes her time eating while she emails clients and texts Wells before he gets slammed at work. 

Bellamy is already drenched in his own sweat by the time she comes out. She tells him she made fresh sweet tea if he wants any and gets comfortable on the old picnic table where she can prop her leg up. 

If she happens to sit so that Bellamy is in her line of sight and happens to catch the moment he takes off his shirt, that’s no one’s business but her own. 

They spend the day outside, even eating lunch and dinner underneath the sun’s careful gaze. Clarke only moves because Bellamy is worried she’s getting sunburned, and after five whole minutes of him lecturing her on the dangers of sun exposure and skin cancer, she finally agrees to move the picnic table underneath the shade of one of the trees. As the sun begins to dip down, Bellamy heads home. Later, Clarke falls asleep with the magic feeling of the sun dancing beneath her skin and a smile on her face. 

Later that week Murphy shows up wearing leather pants and a neon crop top looking as out of place as the Easter Bunny at Christmas. Bellamy had left earlier to go do chores around his place, but had promised to be back for dinner. Clarke was in the tub, her leg sticking out with saran wrap and a plastic bag covering her cast. If Murphy knocked, she definitely didn’t hear it, but judging by the smirk he’s wearing as he walks in the bathroom, she doubts he knocked. 

“What is this I hear about you almost dying?” 

Clarke screeches and jumps causing water to slosh over the side of the tub, “Murphy! What the hell?!” 

He leans against the door frame and eyes her plastic covered cast, “We can’t leave you alone, can we?” 

She scoffs, “Can you please get out?” She motions to the tub, “I’m kinda in the middle of something here.” 

He waves her concern away and sits down cross legged in the doorway, “It’s not like it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” 

“I hate you.” 

“The feeling is mutual.” 

“What are you even doing here?” 

“Wells told me you almost died. I wanted to check on my best friend since she was ignoring my texts.” 

“I did not almost die. Also, I’ve only received one text from you and it was a meme.” 

“Yes, but you didn’t laugh at it.” 

Clarke rolls her eyes, “Whatever. If you’re here you might as well make yourself useful. Come help me out.” 

Murphy complains, but at least he helps. 

They’re both in the kitchen – Clarke drinking lemonade and Murphy drinking the blueberry wine that Bellamy brought over from Monty’s farm – when Bellamy comes back. 

He’s already talking as he walks through the kitchen door, head bent looking at the mail in his hands, “I was thinking about cooking the ham that’s in the fridge for dinner. What do y–” He stops when he sees Murphy, “Uh, hi.” 

“Bellamy, this is Murphy. He came unannounced and unwelcomed. Murphy, this is Bellamy.” 

Murphy takes another sip of the wine and peers over his glass, eyes roving over Bellamy, “No wonder you wanted to move here permanently.” 

Clarke can feel her cheeks heat up, “Shut up and be nice, Murphy.” 

Bellamy looks at Clarke, and she tries to give him a smile. 

“Right,” He drops the mail on the table, “So, ham for dinner?” 

Bellamy cooks the ham, and glazes it with what he swears is a secret family recipe. No matter how much Murphy asks for it, Bellamy refuses to give it up. He puts Murphy in charge of the vegetables and about has a conniption when he sees how much oil Murphy puts on them before roasting them in the oven. 

“Trust me!” Murphy snatches the oil back from Bellamy, “It’s going to taste amazing.” 

Bellamy eyes the tray of veggies wearily but eventually grunts out, “Fine.” 

Clarke sits at the table and mixes the salad dressing with the ingredients Bellamy brings her, “I don’t understand why we couldn’t just buy salad dressing.” 

“It’s better this way.” 

Clarke looks up at Murphy and Bellamy who had both said it, and when she sees Bellamy’s face morph from skeptical to something close to respect, she laughs. 

They eat dinner on the deck Bellamy had finished the day before. It still needs to be stained, but Bellamy was waiting for a day without any summer showers. He heads home after dinner, giving Clarke time to catch up with her friend. 

Once the door closes behind him, Murphy smirks and wiggles his eyebrows at Clarke, “So, tell me everything.” 

She throws a decorative pillow at him, “There’s nothing to tell, Murphy.” 

“I don’t believe that for a second. He rebuilt your deck, Clarke.” Murphy gives her a look, and when she stays silent he huffs, “How often is he over here anyway?” 

_ Every day.  _ “A few times a week.” 

“Wells said he’s over every day.” 

“You and Wells can mind your own damn business. If he does come over every day, it’s only because I broke my leg and he has too big of a heart to stay away.” 

“Yeah, a big heart for  _ you.”  _

Clarke throws another pillow at him. 

Murphy doesn’t stay long. He leaves the next day with a threat that if Clarke doesn’t date Bellamy, he’ll be coming back to do the job himself. 

The next week Bellamy and Clarke spend most of their time painting the shutters. Bellamy insists that Clarke rests, but, much to his dismay, she doesn’t listen. 

It’s while she’s painting the last shutter on ground level, and he’s balancing on a ladder painting the upstairs shutters when he asks, “How do you feel about blueberries?”

Clarke looks up at him curiously, but he’s paying too much attention to the shutter to notice, “Well, they’ve never wronged me.” 

That gets him to look at her, and he gives her a half smile, “My friends Monty and Harper own a blueberry farm. They usually open it up for the public to pick their own during the summer, but they leave the weekends for friends and family. I’m going tomorrow, and they told me to invite you.” 

“If I go, you won’t yell at me for not resting?” 

Another half smile, and paint drips off his brush and lands on her shoulder, “I make no promises.” 

The next day, Bellamy picks her up in his truck, but he makes sure she ate a good breakfast and took her meds before leaving the driveway. 

“You know I can take care of myself, yeah?” 

He glances at her briefly, and his voice is gruff when he responds, “Taking care of people is who I am, Griffin.” 

Another moment passes, “Besides, your grandmother would come and haunt me if I let anything else happen to you.” 

The blueberry farm isn’t far from the house. They probably could have walked or taken the four-wheeler, and Clarke understands the only reason Bellamy drove was because of her leg. When they park in the gravel a few feet from the hundreds of rows of bushes, there are already three people waiting for them with five buckets. 

Bellamy smiles, something wild and wide and carefree when he spots the third person. He’s out of the truck almost before he puts it in park, “Nathan Miller! When the hell did you get back?” 

Clarke takes her time getting out of the truck and takes in the scene in front of her. The man who she assumes is Nathan meets Bellamy half way and they embrace in a hug that’s almost too intimate to witness. Nathan ruffles his hair as he pulls away, his smile nearly matching Bellamy’s. 

“I got back this morning. Dropped my stuff at Dad’s and came here. Wanted to surprise you.” 

Clarke grabs a crutch – she can walk without them for the most part, but she has a feeling they’re going to be standing a while – and leans against the truck once she closes her door. 

Bellamy grips Nathan’s shoulders and gives him a little shake. He cups his cheek and says sincerely, “I’m glad you’re home.” 

Clarke makes her way over to the others, and while Bellamy is still caught up in his friend, the other two come to meet her. 

“You must be Clarke! Helen’s granddaughter, right? My parents grew up with your dad!” The smile the boy gives her says enough to let her know that he’s sorry, “I’m Monty, and this is my wife Harper.” 

Clarke smiles and reaches her hand out to shake theirs, “Nice to meet you guys.” 

Monty ignores her outreached hand and goes in for a hug, “We’re huggers out here, Clarke. You might as well get used to it.” 

She laughs, and accepts it when Harper hugs her too. 

“So you two own this place?” 

Monty shakes his head, “My parents own it, but we run it since they’re getting older.” 

Harper links her arm in his, “How long have you been living at Helen’s?” 

Clarke tries to think back, “A few months, I suppose. I moved in around March.” 

She looks horrified, “I can’t believe we didn’t come and introduce ourselves! We used to bring Helen blueberries weekly.” 

Clarke laughs, “Don’t feel bad. I didn’t necessarily broadcast that I moved in.” 

The other girl tuts her tongue, “Still, Bellamy should have at least told us you had moved in.” 

Clarke waves off her concern, “He’s been a little busy making sure I don’t almost die again.” She takes time to tell them the story of how she very stupidly broke her leg, and how Bellamy had come just in time to give her a ride to the hospital. By the time she finishes, Bellamy and Nathan have joined their group. 

“You always have to be the hero, don’t you, Blake?” Nathan gives him a shove, and Bellamy flips him off. 

“Clarke, this is my oldest and best and probably rudest friend, Nathan. Most of the time we call him Miller though. Miller, this is Clarke.” 

The last name piqued her interest, “Miller? Like Mayberry?” 

Nathan looks confused for a moment, only to then light up in understanding, “The pig? Yes. I swear Pops loves that pig more than me sometimes.” 

“It’s a precious pig, Miller.” Clarke says smiling. 

In the rows of blueberry bushes, their voices carried across the leaves and limbs and berries. Their fingers became stained red with juice and their skin stained by the sun. Laughter filled their souls, and Clarke felt herself loving this small moment, this small town just as much as the home she left. Flies hovered over their sweaty skin, and garden snakes and field mice slithered and skittered this way and that. Miller squealed at the sight of a snake, and Clarke smiled while the others mocked him for the rest of the day. She wasn’t short on friends back home, but this moment she was living was one in a million. She began to think that maybe this could be home, too. 

Bellamy came up beside her, picking blueberries off of the bush she spotted a few rows over from everyone else. He popped a berry in his mouth, “You doing okay?” 

She nodded and smiled at him before responding, “Yeah. This has been nice.” 

He smiled in return and said, “How’s your leg?” 

“It’s good. Don’t worry. I’ll take a break if I need one.” 

He gives her a skeptical glance, already knowing her better than she’d like, but before he could argue with her, he spots how full her bucket is. “How is it so full already?!” 

She cuts her eyes at him, “Maybe because I’m not eating all of them before I put them in my bucket.” 

Bellamy rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Eating them is part of the fun, Griffin.” 

“Whatever you say, Blake.”

The five of them pick blueberries and blackberries until the sun is high in the sky. Once their buckets are full and stomachs overflowing, they head over to the gazebo and drink fresh blueberry lemonade, snack on boiled peanuts and pickles, and lay in the grass soaking up the beauty that the sun rains down on them. That night when Clarke calls Wells, she can still feel the sun beneath her skin. 

The next time Bellamy comes over to check on her, he finds her standing on the deck staring at where Helen’s garden once stood. 

She glances at him before going back to looking at the overgrown plants, “Mamaw wouldn’t want her garden to look like this.” 

“Want me to get rid of it?” 

“No, let’s revive it.” 

Clarke spends the rest of that day listening to Bellamy talk about which plants should be planted when and how much she should plant depending on whether she wants it just for herself, for the neighbors, or if she wants to sell some at the farmer’s market. Clarke listens intently and takes notes. By the time they’re in the kitchen working together to cook dinner, they have a plan for which vegetables to plant. 

Bellamy is halfway through his deer burger when she says, “I want sunflowers, too.” 

He just smiles, “Of course you do.” 

The next day, he comes with sunflower seeds, and they go out to plant them together. 

Fourth of July sneaks up on them, and so does Raven Reyes. Bellamy and Clarke are sharing a watermelon that Bellamy cut when an unfamiliar truck comes speeding down Clarke’s dirt drive. She glances at Bellamy, “You know who that is?” 

He watches as the truck parks behind the fourwheeler, and smiles before the person hops out, “Yeah, that’s Raven.” 

Raven walks with a limp that causes her hair to swish back and forth and somehow manages to make her look even more fierce, “Hey, asshole! Thanks for answering my calls.” She looks over at Clarke, “Oh, hey. You must be Clarke. I’m Raven, not that you know since our mutual friend here hasn’t had the decency to introduce us.” 

“It’s not like you’ve given me a chance to,” Bellamy mumbles under his breath. 

Raven stops in front of Clarke, gives her a once over, and says, “Nice shirt.” The smile she had for Clarke disappears when she turns back to Bellamy, “We’re going to The Bay tonight to watch the fireworks and eat hotdogs. No, there is no discussion. We’re leaving in an hour.” 

“If you would’ve asked like a normal person, we would’ve said yes.” He gives her a smirk, and then asks, “How did you even know I was here?” 

“Monty.” She turns to smile at Clarke again, “You’re coming too, of course.” 

“Of course,” Clarke says around a mouthful of salted watermelon. 

It turned out that The Bay was just a nickname for a lake a few towns over. It seemed like the Fourth of July celebration was a huge deal. There were jumping castles on the sand and in the water. Food trucks were parked in a row, and Clarke could smell little else other than grilled hotdogs and cheeseburgers. People were out in their kayaks and boats, and kids were swimming and splashing each other while the parents sat under umbrellas and tents with more food than Clarke had seen outside of a tailgating event. 

Bellamy and Clarke made themselves comfortable in the bed of his truck, his friends coming and going. Raven stayed with them most of the night until she saw Gina and Luna, and she ran off to hang out with them. 

“You know you don’t have to stay with me, right?” 

Bellamy takes a slow sip from his beer, “Yeah, I know. I’d rather sit here, though. We’ve done a lot of work lately. I think just relaxing would do me some good.” 

“I’m going to ban you from doing more chores around the house.” 

He glares at her, “Don’t you dare.” 

She laughs and scoots off the truck, “Well, c’mon. I’m hungry, and I’m sure you are too. We can come straight back here.” 

As the sun dips down, the lake slowly empties of swimmers. More people could be spotted sitting under the tents talking and eating. The air was hot and muggy, clinging to Clarke’s skin and causing her hair to frizz, lungs to work harder, and her cup to sweat. But as the darkness began to be lit up by bursts of light and the smell of smoke filled her nose, she didn’t think she’d want to be anywhere else. 

When Bellamy draped his arm over her shoulder, she leaned into it with a sigh. 

Her soul was happy, and the night was as sweet as honey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was 4/5 finished weeks ago, but I suddenly lost motivation. Anyway, I did Summer Things over the weekend, and it really inspired this fic. Hope you all enjoyed it! 
> 
> You can come yell at me for taking forever to update on [tumblr.](https://thefangirlingbarista.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone is staying well and enjoyed this story so far! Comments and kudos help the quarantine slump :) 
> 
> come find me on tumblr at [thefangirlingbarista!](https://thefangirlingbarista.tumblr.com/)


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